Shinigami Hate Angels
by Anger House
Summary: AU Yaoi Rukia's crush on a socially awkward Ichigo leads her to introduce him to her best childhood friend, Renji- a very attractive thai boxer; but neither of the Kuchiki siblings seem entirely ready to let the boys go.  RenxIchi ByaxRen RukxIchi
1. Chapter 1

_I wrote this story two years ago and decided to ressurect it. I'll be finishing the final chapters this year. :) Thanks for reading!_

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SHINIGAMI HATE ANGELS

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**1. This Morning**

"They say when you offer a dog a treat and it doesn't come," he says, "or it cowers, then it's a sign of abuse." He crouches beside a small, bone thin girl, whose hand is extended toward a whining dog. She shifts her weight from heel to heel and sighs.

Her mouth is lop-sided as she says, "I'm just trying to be nice to it. I don't see why it won't come." She blows a piece of dark hair out of her eyes.

"Just leave the food on the ground and lets go," he says. "The dog will eat it later."

"I bet it's just scared of you Renji," she says as she gets up. He pretends to laugh and hooks her under his shoulders. Her head rests against his ribs as they begin to walk onto the street.

She curls her thin arm around his waist and says, "there. Now we look like a couple." He laughs again, though genuinely this time. "So how is my older brother?" she asks, staring ahead.

"Successful," Renji says, shrugging with his shoulders. "Working a lot."

"So is he happy?" She asks as she sniffs the air. "I smell cheese pretzels," she says.

"He's happy," Renji says, "most of the time. I hate cheese pretzels."

She smiles and it lights up her entire face. She smiles and her eyes smile too. This is how Renji knows that she is genuinely excited. "So I met this guy," she says. She sucks in a breath quickly like she usually does when she's excited. "And I'm living with him."

"When can I meet him?" Renji knows that Rukia doesn't bring up men unless she wants Renji to meet them. So he decided to get straight to the point.

So did Rukia. "Monday. One thirty. We'll go for lunch at that new place on Rons street?"

"Alright," he says. "I'll remember to wear something decent."

"You better," she smiles again, "and don't embarrass me. I really like this one."

**2. That evening**

When Byakuya walks through the front door, he sets his shoes and coat neatly into their regular place. He loosens his tie as he heads up the stairs, taking a moment to examine the main hall. The walls, the furniture and the décor- it's all immaculate. Once it's safe to conclude that everything is in order- and that the maid had come earlier- he proceeds into the master suite. He places his baggage onto a sleek, black desk and wonders where Renji is.

The house was large and trying to locate him within it might take as long as ten minutes. Then again, it was more than likely that Renji was training in the basement. Although Byakuya couldn't fathom why Renji preferred to train there then in the home-gym, he didn't question it. He removed his tie and belt and then tugged his shirt out from under his pants. He slipped on a light, cashmere sweater as he headed into the basement.

Even before he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, he could hear Renji skipping. The heavy rope clicked against the floor quickly and echoed through the walls. So even before Byakuya saw him, he knew what to expect when he opened the door.

Byakuya leaned against the doorframe, watching. Renji had clearly discarded his shirt earlier, as it was tossed across the room. Sweat gleamed on his skin and looked as though someone had squirted him a few times with a spray bottle.

As Renji skipped, not one area of his body rattled. The man was solid, but Byakuya had already known that.

Renji spies him in the corner of his eye. "Welcome home," he says over a slightly laboured breath. Then he asks, "now?"

And Byakuya answers him, "no. Finish up and shower."

**3. Next Afternoon **

"Jesus Christ, Renji!" Rukia whispers harshly. She watched the man hobble slowly beside her. He sat slowly and groaned. "Look at your fucking face!"

Renji shut his eyes and leaned his head back onto the cushioning of the booth. "So what kind of food does this place serve?"

Rukia says, "American food." Her eyes locked onto the bruising outlining Renji's cheekbone. It was fresh and reddish and curved over his brow. Renji's face wasn't swollen. He'd known how to calm down an injury. He'd spent the early morning icing his face and other hidden bruises- he wanted to avoid any confrontation with Rukia.

"Oh, look," Rukia says, her voice brightening. "Ichigo's here already."

"That's him?" Renji says, lifting a brow. "What's with that hair?"

"Jesus, Renji," Rukia whispers. "It's not like you can talk." The way Rukia's eyes locked onto Ichigo, Renji could already guess the level of her infatuation.

"Rukia," Ichigo says, a few steps from the table. He gives her a quick wave and nods to Renji before sitting across from them. "So what kind of food does this place serve?"

Rukia says, "American cuisine."

And Renji says, "burgers."

Ichigo smiles sheepishly and comments, "nothing like a burger."

"So this is Renji," Rukia says in her introductory voice. She looks over to her friend and pushes his large, dark sunglasses onto his forehead. "He's got a bad habit of wearing sunglasses indoors."

Ichigo gives Renji a graceless smile and says, "Sorry for noticing, but that's one hell of a nasty bruise there."

"He boxes," Rukia says quickly. "That's where you got it from right? Training?"

"Yeah," Renji answers, his voice sounding tired. "Let's order."

**4. Last Night**

He washes the sweat from his long, red hair. As he rinses away the suds he wonders what brought him here. Was it Byakuya's loneliness? Renji knew that the man had a wife; and that his wife was dead. Perhaps it was an eroding progression that led Byakuya to take him in. Maybe knowing the answer didn't matter. It wouldn't solve anything for Renji. If for years Byakuya's lonely heart only got lonelier, it would offer Renji no consolation. How could it?

He stands at the bedroom door and knocks lightly. He hears Byakuya's voice, soft through the door, but still commanding and bitter. Byakuya says, "Clothes off and come in." When Renji walks through the door, stark naked and still damp from the shower, Byakuya glances in his direction with disapproval. "I expect you to train hard, Renji," he says. "Otherwise you shouldn't bother. You can get a real job if you don't fight well."

"I train hard," Renji says. "I have a good fight record. A few more amateur fights and I'll be able to find a worthwhile pro match."

"I understand," Byakuya says. He speaks coolly, so much so that Renji can never guess if Byakuya is genuine or not. "Regardless," he says, "I don't require that you become successful; you have only one obligation to me."

Obligation. Renji thinks that it almost sounds classy. It's almost _subtle_. As if on cue, Renji slides a hand onto Byakuya's shoulder. He pats him briskly, _almost_ soothingly. He grabs a hold of Renji's wrist and sweeps it away. He'd never paid heed to what was hidden in the gesture. He didn't acknowledge the pat on the shoulder as anything but consensus.

It had always begun this way. Renji would reach out his hand; he would pat Byakuya on the shoulder as if to say, "it's okay." It wasn't though, not in the deeper sense. Tonight, though, Byakuya does things a bit differently. He asks Renji to lie down on the bed. He says, "on your back, please."

Renji clenches his jaw. He settles slowly onto the bed as if he was getting into hot water. Finally, he rests his head on the pillows and lays back. His gaze sticks to the nearest wall and doesn't waver as Byakuya wanders around the room.

In his hands is a set of cold, thin manacles. They clink as he places them on the nightstand. "If it's tolerable," Byakuya says, turning his back, "I'd like for you to wear those." Renji eyes them warily. "If you do this tonight, I won't call for you again this month. Do you agree?"

Renji looks at the manacles. He thinks it may not be so bad. It may not even be that different. So what if his hands are bound? It'll still be the same routine; and the prospect of a few weeks of autonomy is irresistible. He bites his bottom lip and grabs the cuffs.

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_Next update will be in a few days. Please revisit. _

_After looking back on this story, and others that I have written, I have concluded that I have used the bya/ren "rape" plot much too often. I really had a fetish for that... apparently. _


	2. Chapter 2

**5. The Next Rainy Night**

When Renji shows up on Ichigo's doorstep he tries not to shiver. The rain drips from the roof in loud gushes and marks Renji's clothing with large, darkened dots. It runs from his hair and into his eyes, making them red and irritated. He blinks the water away. His voices shakes, but lacks none of its usual confidence as he says, "let me in, yeah?"

Ichigo stood aside, letting the soaked man step into the porch. He says, "Renji. It's Renji right?" Renji nodded and Ichigo hesitated. "Would you, uh, like something to drink?"

"A towel," Renji says, "would be more appropriate."

"Oh," Ichigo says, his thoughts stumbling. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Of course it would." He runs a hand along the back of his neck. "But, uh, what're you," he pauses, "doing here exactly?"

"Look," Renji says a little more sternly, "do you have a dryer or something? I'm freezing to death."

Ichigo snapped out from his daze. "Yeah," he says. "Leave as much of the wet stuff as you can on the porch. I don't want puddles leading into the laundry room."

Renji nodded and began stripping off his jacket and sweater. He looked around the room and asked, "Where's Rukia? She said she was staying with you." He pulls a wet foot out from a soggy shoe.

"She is. She's upstairs," Ichigo made a face, "doing girl things."

"Ah," Renji says as he peels off his shirt. Small droplets left his bare skin damp and shiny. It highlighted the dips and curves of his muscles, which Ichigo noted made Renji look even more intimidating. His body was also lined with dark, tribal tattoos- something which didn't surprise Ichigo. Renji had tattoos on his arms and forehead, so why wouldn't he have them on his torso too?

When Renji notices Ichigo's anxious expression, he says, "don't worry. I'm not here to steal your TV. You can relax."

"That's not what I was thinking," he answered defensively. "Just leave all that on the porch and stay on the tiles. Don't go near the carpet." Renji looked through the kitchen and nodded. He noticed Ichigo's eyes darting over him; but he was used to being looked at. He was the sort that commanded attention. In high school, Renji's good looks had been the only thing that helped him through it. His classmates and teachers didn't care so much about his _rustic_ background so long as he didn't look it.

"Renji!" Rukia yells from atop the stairs. "Mother fucker! What happened?" She wore a long cotton t-shirt sporting a large logo of a popular beer company. It hit her about mid-thigh.

"Jesus Christ!" Rukia cursed as she blow-dried Renji's long hair. "Un-fucking-believable! What do you mean you've _had enough_ of my brother?" She rakes her fingers through his hair and pulls it straight under the hot air.

"Look, Rukia," Renji begins although he's not sure what to say. He couldn't tell her the truth. Well, not the _whole_ truth. Outside the door, Ichigo is pretending to read. He flips the pages of a magazine as he sits on the floor cross-legged and listens intently. He can't help it. He finds Renji irresistibly interesting- and, he'll admit, a little attractive.

"It's complicated Rukia," Renji says over the noise of the hair dryer. "Byakuya is going through this…" he's not sure how to word it, so he says, "phase." He adds, "I just can't deal with it."

Rukia has no idea. She says, "Phase? Renji, my brother is letting you live with him. He's even feeding you for free so you can focus all your time on training. Whatever little quirk he has, I'm sure you can put up with it." She sprays something in his hair and says, "No doubt the benefits outweigh the cost."

Renji mumbles something along the lines of "not this time" and suffers an annoyed glare from Rukia. "Fine, fine," he grumbles. "I'll go back. I'll go back… tomorrow."

"Fine," Rukia agrees. "Stay here tonight. I'll be right back though, I need to get some shine spray." She runs out the door and passes Ichigo.

Ichigo popped his head through the door and lifted one side of his headphones off his ear. He says, "Sorry 'bout her. She gets really into hair stuff. She's studying to be a cosmologist or something."

Renji nods and says, "I know. She's been that way since she was a kid."

"You guy's childhood friends?"

"Yeah," Renji says. "We grew up in the same neighborhood," he rolls his eyes, "well, _before_ she fell into the Kuchiki fortune." He pauses and looks to the ceiling in thought. "Imagine that, eh? Someone knocks on your door one day and claims you as the long lost sister of an important family. And by important, I mean bloody rich."

"Careful," Ichigo laughs, "you sound a bit bitter."

Renji grins. "Well now that's coz I got to deal with her new family now too." His grin turns lopsided. "And I've never met a bigger bunch of right bastards than the Kuchiki's."

Ichigo laughs and despite a desire to carry-on a conversation, he slides the headphones back onto his ear and leans back against the doorway.

Rukia stops in front of him with a glistening, aluminum spray can in her hand and says, "Ichigo? Ichigo can you hear me?" And Ichigo pretends to bob his head to the music. Rukia smiles and then patters into the room. She gives the can a shake and coats Renji's hair with it. "So?" she says, her voice bubbling over with excitement. All traces of her previous concern dissipated. "What do you think of _him?_"

From outside the hall, Ichigo perks up. _Him?_

Renji inhales, accidentally breathing in the spray and coughing. "What," he chokes and fans the fumes away with his hand, "part of him are we talking?"

Rukia roles her eyes, and decides to smooth the ends of Renji's hair with a flatiron. "Do you think he's a nice guy?"

"If he's nice to you," Renji answers. Rukia taps him on the head, so he elaborates. "He let me use his dryer," he states. "I'm obligated to defend his character as long as my clothing is in there."

"Stop being silly," Rukia says, smiling lightly and concentrating on making every strand of Renji's hair straight. "You look better without your clothes on anyway," she winked.

"So do you," Renji retorted and Rukia flushed. Ichigo held his breath outside the doorway and tried to suppress an onslaught of imaginative assumptions. He found himself wondering if Rukia and Renji had ever dated; or currently were dating.

"So be honest," Rukia says. "I know he's young and a bit inexperienced, but there _is_ something there, right? I'm not just being foolhardy. He's a ten, ain't he?" She grins and it seems too mischievous for her face.

Renji laughs and stretches his legs. "You've always had a soft spot for the pretty ones."

"I love pretty boys," Rukia giggles as she runs her fingers through Renji's hair again. "It's as soft as silk now," she says, "and it smells like hot tamales."

"Like candy?"

She nods. "Sugary smells are the best. People like people who smell like something they can eat."

Ichigo doesn't usually brush his teeth before breakfast, but he does this morning. He rubs his face in the mirror and straightens out his wild, orange hair. Then he picks at his clothes and sighs once he realizes he's doing it.

Renji had slept on the couch and he was sprawled over it like he owned it. He woke up to the crackling sounds of sizzling oil and the smell of food. He groaned and forced himself off the couch and into the kitchen. This is where he finds Ichigo hunched over a frying pan. "What'cha cooking?" he asks and Ichigo jumps.

"Eggs," he answers, shuffling around the counter quickly. "Toast, eggs," he repeats. "Want some?"

"Yeah," Renji says as he puts his hands on his hips and stretches out his back. Ichigo peeked over his shoulder and caught an eyeful. Renji was wearing light flannel pajama bottoms- his- that rode dangerously low on his hips. Ichigo clenched his jaw and wished Renji would wear more clothes; but at the same time, maybe not.

"Need me to do anything?" he asks.

"No," Ichigo says and Renji sits at the table. "What smells like hot tamales?"

"My hair."

"Oh."

"So," Renji says, breaking the silence. "You own this place? You seem a bit young to own your own place." He adds, "no offence."

"My aunt rents it to me." Ichigo slips the eggs onto a plate. "She doesn't charge me very much. I'm her favourite," he winks and places a warm plate in front of Renji. "Hope you don't mind them easy over." And he sits down with his own plate.

"Nope," Renji says. "I don't mind." And he shoves a forkful into his mouth.

"So you box?" he asks, despite his creeping feelings of insecurity. Renji was very attractive; this made him a bit hard to talk to. That, and well, he was technically a stranger.

Renji smiled. It was a smile that seemed to radiate comfort. It put Ichigo a bit at ease. "Thai boxing," Renji corrected.

"Oh," Ichigo says, his ears perking. "Like Tony Jaa?"

Renji laughed. "Yeah," he says, "like Tony Jaa."

"That's cool," Ichigo says, trying to sound casual. "Competitive?"

"Very." To Ichigo's surprise, Renji asks, "And you?" Ichigo lifted a brow in incomprehension. Renji smiles again. "The way you move," Renji says, "you've trained before. Maybe fought before. I'm wrong?"

"No," Ichigo answered lightly. "Karate. Since I was small, I've trained in Karate. I teach it at the dojo actually. You can see something like that?"

Renji shrugged and scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably; although, he wasn't sure why he'd felt suddenly uncomfortable. Maybe it was the sound of Rukia's lightly rumbling voice in the next room. They could hear her soft footsteps pattering against the floor as she paced.

"Sounds like she's on the phone," Ichigo said.

"I didn't hear her get up."

When Rukia pops into the kitchen she has the phone pressed against her breast. Her brows are combed and gelled into perfect arches. The creases of her eyes are shimmering with translucent powder and accented in dark, shadowy grays. She moves her pale, glossy lips into the words, "my brother."

And Renji shakes his head and his arms horizontally to signal 'not here'.

And Rukia nods. She puts the phone back onto her ear and says, "Here? No. Why would Renji be here?" as she walks back up the stairs.

Ichigo turns his attention back onto Renji. He asks, "over zealous coach?" with chewed eggs rolling around his mouth.

Renji shakes his head again. "Who Kuchiki? Not a chance." He laughs bitterly. "Manager, maybe. I don't know exactly."

Ichigo nods and scraps the last bits of food from his plate. "Well," he starts and blows out a long, tired breath, "I have to be at the dojo. Um," he glances around the kitchen, "you can stay here with Rukia, until you know, you feel like takin' off."

"Thanks," Renji says, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Ok," Ichigo says. He stands and places his plate in the sink. He claps his hands together, throws another look in Renji's direction and says, "alright then," and leaves the kitchen.

As if she'd been waiting in the doorway, Rukia pops her head into the kitchen. She smiles and bites her bottom lip. Then she scampers next to Renji. "He's the one, isn't he? I just have this feeling about him. He's great, don't you think?" She smiles and her teeth match the whites of her eyes. "It's hard not to get my hopes up about him. I think I'm really falling for him."

"Yeah? You sure he's single?" Renji asks, trying to ignore her rambling.

"Why? You think he's taken? I don't think so. He's shy about that kind of stuff. I don't think he's dated anyone. If Ichigo and I are going to work, I'm going to need to be aggressive. At least, that's what I think. What do you think? Renji?"

"Sure," he shrugs and pushes the plate towards the center of the table. "Rukia, have you _seen_ Ichigo with a lot of girls?" he asks carefully, bringing his hand near his mouth.

"Um," she says, "well, he trains with this one girl- real butch though. I don't have to worry about that one. Otherwise- oh wait! There's this other chick," she wiggles her hands in front of her chest, "huge boobs but not very smart. Seems like she's daydreaming half the time. Not his type. Let's see… and-"

"Rukia," Renji says quickly. "That's not what I meant. I don't think Ichigo-"

Rukia's face drops. She says, "You can't be serious."

Renji tells himself that Rukia can't be _too_ serious about Ichigo yet. He reminds himself that Rukia has never claimed to be one for committed relationships; that he shouldn't hesitate to give her his honest opinion. "Rukia," he says, "I'm pretty sure Ichigo," to put it casually, "plays for the other team."

You could hear Rukia shout from across the street. She shouted, "What?" Then she asks Renji, "are you sure? How do you know?"

"If I tell you how I know, you'll just tell me to get over myself," Renji says. "So, no, forget it. Forget I said anything."

"Fucking hell," she mutters. "He said something to you? Is that it?"

"Rukia," Renji starts, rubbing the back of his neck, "maybe you should just ask him?"

"I can't ask him." She relaxed the muscles in her face and frowned deeply. "How could I ask him?" she says more heatedly. "To ask him such a personal question is rude and intrusive! And I don't have any good reason to believe he's gay." She touches her chest. "And my heart tells me he's not gay."

Renji rolls his eyes. "Your heart is thinner than paper."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Rukia asks, curling her upper lip. She picks a gray piece off lint of her shirt and digs her toes into the tile. Renji sighs. "Look," she says, "maybe I believe you. Maybe I think there _might_ be a slight possibility that he's gay. He does have these certain… _habits_. For instance, I'm pretty sure he files his nails." Renji opens his mouth to speak, but Rukia shushes him with her finger. "But that's not exactly positive proof. He may just be very tidy. The point is… I can't ask him."

"The point is," she says, "you can find out for me."

"What?"

"Just find out okay?" she says a little more sternly.

Renji stammers. He feels his face heating up. "What? Why me?"

She leans her weight on one hip and folds her thin arms across her chest. Her shiny, pink mouth is frowning as she explains; "Guys can do things with other guys that they just won't do with women."

Renji's mouth gapes. "You want me to have sex with him?" he asks.

"Mother-fucking Christ," she yowls. "Are you shitting me right now?"

"Yes," he says, "you're just so serious."

"Just," she whines, staring at the ceiling, "bring it up somehow. Find out. Do some man thing together. Bond or whatever shit. Find out. Please? Won't you do this _one little thing_ for me?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Check out this amazing **fanart** by **Faye Silo** at: _ _fayexsilo. deviantart. com/art/Wake-up-179102589 ! Be sure to give Faye Silo plently of great feedback at his/her deviant art site. Thanks Faye! _

_If there are any other dA users, be sure to give a shout out. :)_

**

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SHINIGAMI HATE ANGELS

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**6. That Night When You Wished It'd Just Be Morning Already**

Byakuya had never spent the night with Renji in his master bedroom. It was always one of the many guest bedrooms. It made sense, Renji thought, why soil the bed you're going to sleep in? He thinks this over as he lies naked, dirty and alone between thin sheets that are moist only in certain places. He looks at the reddened rims around his wrists. They'll become bruises tomorrow, he muses. Think of it as a lover's gift; it's a bracelet- only of contusions.

He'll have to wear long sleeves tomorrow- when tomorrow comes. He smiles and covers his eyes with his hand. Swallowing hard, he feels something like a cough scratching his throat. He swallows it down. Tomorrow, he'd agreed to meet Ichigo at his Dojo; only Ichigo didn't know about it yet. This was an agreement he'd made with Rukia. One he wasn't regretting, but still one he wasn't looking forward to. He feels a scratch in his throat. He swallows it down.

He shifts uncomfortably and notices the bed sheets are sticking to his backside. He pulls the sheets away from his skin; but it still felt as if something gummy was dried onto him. He reaches down and touches it with his finger. It stings. He brings his hand over his eyes and examines the deep red shimmer on his fingers. Blood. Little bits of scabbing stuck to fingers like stubborn flakes of cooked oatmeal. He lets his body collapse into the mattress.

He wonders why it is that he can bleed so well, and still sleep so unsoundly.

**7. The First Time **

They'd discussed it verbally. It was only a passing conversation at dinner. They'd bring it up in brisk sentences before asking the other to pass the potatoes. Once they'd talked about it during a television commercial. Just talking about it didn't make Renji nervous; although it made Byakuya shift uncomfortably. "Sure," Renji would drawl, "I can do that. I sure can't offer mush else." Neither of them could really say whose idea it had been. "If that's your thing," Renji would say, "sure. Sure, I can do that," and then he would relax into the furniture. Just discussing it wasn't serious. To Renji, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't real yet.

"Alright," Byakuya said. "Then how about tomorrow? What time is appropriate?"

Renji didn't even take his eyes off the television. He was watching the fight. "Um," he said, partly distracted, "I don't know." He'd said, "whenever."

Tomorrow evening, Renji is sitting back in that same chair. His hands are wet and shaking.

Byakuya is in the next room, drinking. He raises a tiny, glass cup to his lips and drinks from it quickly. He sets the empty glass on the cupboard and lets out a slow, shaky breath. He clasps his hands together and shuts his eyes for a moment. Another drink. Maybe two.

Renji's foot is shaking. His body feels cold; his stomach feels heavy. The fine hairs on his arms are raised as he waits silently and impatiently. If he's going to do this, he thinks, if he's really going to go through with this, then Byakuya better start it soon.

"Okay," Byakuya's voice travels from the doorway. It's slightly lazy, sounding only a bit drunk. His jaw clenches as he waits for Renji to move off of the couch.

Renji nods and stands. He follows behind Byakuya and they amble quietly through the house. They walk slowly through the halls, passing the same rooms over and over in silence. Finally, Byakuya stops in front of one. He reaches slowly for the handle and then opens the door roughly. It bangs against the wall, but doesn't startle either of them. Byakuya doesn't enter the room.

A few minutes pass and Renji begins to sway on his feet. He pushes past the other man and walks a few feet into the room. After another moment, Byakuya steps in and shuts the door. He turns on the light and begins to undress. Both of them moved with automatic precision, disrobing just as they would if they'd been alone. It was easy to follow simple habits.

Renji had left his clothes in a disheveled pile; Byakuya folded his neatly and stacked them onto a dresser. For a few minutes, they stood there naked, finding interest only in the walls and ceiling. "Maybe we should have _googled_ this first," Renji offered, not sure if he was amused or serious.

"We start on the bed," Byakuya said, unmoving.

Renji says, "right," and then sits on the edge of the bed. "We need lube, too," he adds, still unsure if he was actually being serious or not.

"I don't have a thing like that."

They were silent for another few moments.

"Can we use margarine?"

"Sure," Renji says, and then he says, "wait. Am I the one… you know… on the bottom?"

"Yes."

"Then no. No margarine."

"How about Vaseline?"

"That'll never wash off."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"Uh," Renji says, trying to think of something. Rukia comes to mind. Rukia had always used baby oil to remove her mascara. She said it was _mild_ and _stayed on_ her lashes _all night_ and even conditioned them. Her lashes were never so soft and healthy. "Baby oil," Renji says, "we use baby oil."

"Alright," Byakuya nods. "And," he pauses, "where would something like that be kept?"

"I don't know. This is your house. Where do you keep it?"

"I'm not sure. My assistants do that sort of thing."

"They shop for you and put it away?"

"I'm not in the house often. Why should I bother to manage to it?"

"I'm not sure. Check the bathroom? Maybe the medicine cabinet?"

Byakuya nodded and wandered into the guest bathroom. Renji listened to the noises of rummaging, although he was trying to focus on something else. He'd rather think of anything else- well, excluding Rukia. He didn't want to think about her right now either. What would she think about this? He didn't want to know.

Byakuya reentered the room with the cheap, bottled mineral oil. He pressed a precise, dollar-sized amount in his palm and threw it toward Renji; who caught it automatically. "Lubricate yourself," Byakuya ordered, as he turned to face the wall again.

Renji handled the bottle in his hand as Byakuya begun to handle himself. Renji glanced over, noticing that Byakuya was also trying to get some life into his lower regions at the same time. Okay, Renji tells himself, time to get on with it. He wasn't sure if he was sure, but this wasn't the time make sure. He tells himself, now or never. Just do it; and he flips the bottle upside down.

He squeezes the bottle and too much oil drips onto his fingers. It leaks onto his leg. No big deal, he thinks and tosses the bottle on the floor. He rubs the oil into his hands, making sure to coat his fingers a little too judiciously. Once he realizes he's stalling, he glares at his shining fingers as if they were opponents. No way, he thinks. There's no way he can do it. Then he reminds himself that he's a _brave man_. He is imperturbable and audacious. He's the kind of man who asks questioners later. A doer.

He lifts one side of his leg off the bed and slides his lubricated hand underneath. He pokes his fingers around his anus and is thankful that it wasn't Byakuya who was doing this. He pushes a finger into his rectum and tries not to look nervous or annoyed. He slips in another finger and experiments with wiggling one at a time. In a situation like this, Renji thinks, it's perfectly natural to feel ridiculous. The way he feels, it's perfectly natural. Everyone sleeps with his or her landlord, right?

He slides his fingers out and wipes the baby oil from his fingers onto the bed. After _this_, Renji plans to scrub under his fingernails. He's going to soak his entire hand in a sink full of suds- anything to get the smell off. Maybe even a sink of beer.

The sound of bare foot steps tears his attention away from his still glistening fingers. He looks up and sees Byakuya toddle over toward the bed, walking oddly either from his previous over-consumption of alcohol or his swollen and stiff erection, which was standing tall between his legs. A clear strand of gooey liquid stuck to his abdomen where the tip of his phallus occasionally poked him. He didn't ask Renji if he was ready, he just climbed onto the bed.

Renji laid down on his back, his knees bent and his eyes wide and expressive. His heart pounded noisily. He could feel his blood pumping through his body. And then he felt something warm and slick poking him between his butt cheeks. He ignored all his instincts to panic. He tells himself _I'm a doer, I'm a doer, I'm a doer_. And then it slides into him further and further. It was hard and warm and alive. It felt as if it was palpitating inside him. He lets a hissing breath escape between his teeth as it sinks wholly into him.

Renji had been with a man before this. One man. Ask him about it and he would say, "it's a long story" and leave it at that. This time, however, it feels different. It doesn't feel entirely like sex. He doesn't even feel entirely awake.

Byakuya pulls out of him, and then digs back into him. He repeats this movement all the while he's grunting and gasping. The way his face is moving, Renji can hardly recognize him. The man above him doesn't seem as cold and distant as he normally should be. Byakuya, humping into him, seems less grand and hostile. Then again, it was hard to keep the same opinion of someone whose thighs were slapping against the backs of your legs.

Byakuya's back arches and he pushes his pelvis forcefully forward into Renji. Renji winces at the sudden, deep intrusion. He feels Byakuya's phallus idle inside him, humming and hot. It spurts strongly once, twice and pauses briefly before releasing the rest of the warm, syrupy goop weakly into Renji's rectum.

He listens to Byakuya's laboring breath, ghosting over his neck in the dark. The man hovered for a moment before regaining himself and abandoning the bed; picking up his folded pile of discarded clothing and leaving the bedroom. Renji swallowed down a scratchy feeling in his throat. He kept repeating the same thoughts in his mind. He asks _what have I done? What have I done? What have I done?_

**8. The Surprise Meeting At The Dojo**

It was late in the evening, but there were no stars yet. Renji walks into the building; he drags himself up a flight of stairs. From behind the door, he hears the shouts of men and women. He hears short, terse grunts. As he steps through the doorway, he hears the familiar sound of skin slapping against kicking paddles. Over the commotion, Ichigo's voice is shouting, commanding. He paces on the foam mats with his arms resting at his sides and his eyes narrow and focused.

Through the crowd of students dressed in loose, white uniforms, Ichigo stares directly at Renji. His eyes stick to the vibrant, red-haired man staring back at him insolently. He tries to look away, to re-focus his attentions to his students, but finds himself frozen. All around him, the crowd of white is moving and shouting. They're kicking over their heads and hopping quickly on their toes. Everything seems to be in motion except for him. And he can't seem to move.

Renji sat on the benches during the class. He waited quietly, so quietly that no one except Ichigo took notice of him. After another hour, the class was dismissed and herded into the locker rooms.

"What do you want?" Ichigo blurts out as he passes Renji. The moment he'd said it, he'd regretted it. Strangely, he was excited that Renji was here. It elicited a curious craving in him; however, he didn't know where to direct that instinct.

Renji smirked. He rolled his shoulders lazily and turned his palms upward. He peered at Ichigo with an expectant look in his dark, red eyes.

"What?" Ichigo asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Renji had an ability to make others second-guess themselves. It was uncanny, although Ichigo didn't think so. He shifted uncomfortably and repeated, "_what?_"

Renji smiled. "Nothing," he says and hops off the bench. "So where's your master? Or are _you_ the grand master?"

"What?"

Renji echoes, "what."

Ichigo's brows pinch together. He was tired and impatient, still, he felt oddly elated with Renji around. He felt a tug at his belt. Looking down, he notices that Renji was grabbing onto his karate black belt. "What are you…?" Ichigo says, notably not cringing or shrinking away.

"Checking your stripes." Renji briefly examined the three golden bands embroidered onto the end of the belt. "Third Dan, eh?" he says, "you're definitely not the grand master." And he smirks again as he lets the belt drop from his hand.

Ichigo's left eye narrowed as the opposite brow twitched upward. "So," he says, "what of it? Is that what you came here for? To criticize me?"

"I'm not criticizing you," Renji says, his features softening. It catches Ichigo a little off guard. "You're criticizing you."

"What do mean by that?" he asks quickly.

"I was just making an observation," Renji says, planting his palm on his chest. "You created a negative implication for that observation." He smiles unnaturally wide, "Personally, I think you're great."

Ichigo tries to decide if Renji is genuine or not. Renji seemed to be the type of guy who could be shady at times. He was always mysterious, but sometimes it shifted from charming to threatening. Renji was unpredictable. That made Ichigo anxious.

Renji sighed. "Relax Ichigo, would you?


End file.
